I rubbed my temples. It had been just one year—one year of pretending, keeping this secret, and letting Mom believe that insurance and bonuses had magically solved all our problems. Then everything would go back to normal—whatever normal meant these days.
The elevator dinged at the lobby. One year wasn't so long, right? People did way crazier things for their families. At least I wasn't robbing banks or selling organs on the black market. Though honestly, explaining either of those might be easier than telling Mom I'd agreed to be Alexander's girlfriend-for-hire.
I stepped out into the lobby, my heels clicking against the polished floor. One year. I could handle one year. Then, Mom would be better, the bills would be paid, and this whole arrangement would just be a strange chapter in my
